


There was a hole

by Kuro_Guardian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Character-based writing style shift, Earn Your Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Gen, Multiple Perspectives, No Possible Happy Ending for some, Original Silent Hill Monsters, Perspective Screw, Physical Trauma, Psychological Torture, Silent Hill Monsters - Freeform, Worst Possible Ending for others, emotional exhaustion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5985331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_Guardian/pseuds/Kuro_Guardian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a place where nightmares come true and every lie you've ever told yourself is dragged screaming into the light. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, and others are about to see the consequences of being self-righteous. If they are lucky they'll find themselves better people as they leave. Otherwise... their sins will surely drag them under. Rated for violence and dark themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

> _There was a hole here, it's gone now._
> 
> _The one great problem with the righteous is their perchance to become self-righteous, and in that self-righteousness to disconnect with the consequences of their actions. The idea then becomes that because they can claim to be good people that any action they take is by default good as well... and it is not._

The sound of dripping water is the first indication that perhaps he is awake. The surface he lies on is cold and hard - concrete perhaps, but it smells strongly of iron. It's difficult to make himself get up because honestly this is the best he's felt in any number of years. No aches or pain, the weird soreness he's had the last three years is gone and for once he isn't cold. _Sirius!_ With a sudden jerk the brunette is sitting up staring wildly about for Jam- ah Harry. The department of mysteries is the last thing... no. He had been laughing because this was the most fun he'd experienced in a dog's age. Then that bitch Bellatrix caught him in the chest with an AK and he'd tumbled through the Veil. So, so what? Was he dead then?

Smoothing his right hand over the cool stone beneath him the thirty-something frowns. If he's a ghost than he's remarkably solid and if he's dreaming then this is an amazingly vivid moment. More important is the question of where he is right now. Looking up all he can see is darkness and looking about he can just barely make out four walls of sheet metal badly corroded. "I guess there's nothing to it. I better see who happens to be running this show." Obviously something is up - if nothing else falling through that damn Veil has probably sent him back in time or something.

It is as he is marveling at the smooth manner he is able to clamber to his feet that he hears something moving about further ahead. Frozen in an admittedly awkward crouch Sirius listens preparing to switch over to his animagus form. He hears it again as though something were rolling or being rolled toward him. Out of the gloom comes a small metal flashlight which rolls to a stop at his feet. It's old and green with a frayed black strap hanging off the end. 'Safelight - a light you can depend on.' Chuckling at the barely discernable legend it suddenly occurs to Sirius to check for his wand.

The slender bit of wood is nowhere to be seen on him - not in his pockets nor tucked up in his sleeves or the top of his boots. "Boots?" Running a hand through his shaggy mane of hair he stops in confusion... He needs a mirror - now! Snatching up the flashlight he snaps it on and instantly freezes in horror and confusion - all around him is an abyss the section of flooring he stands on the only bit of safety. Jerking to the side in the nick of time he manages to avoid the steel ladder that slams down where he was. Flashing his light over it he then turns it upward and just barely makes out an opening. "Tch, what the hell is going on?" Seeing as thinking never got him anywhere he decides to climb first and bother with the details later.

The climb seems to last forever, but eventually he makes it to the opening. Popping through it he nearly falls back through when he is greeted by a squeal. Darting around he notices he is in a hallway paneled with wood. Moving closer he watches the swollen walls effectively weep fluid moving closer he realize the water smells of salt as though it were tears. Repelled he stands and simply looks not sure what direction he should take. Hearing the squeal again from the left he moves toward it trying to come up with at least one really good wandless hex he can do. Some way or another he's going to have to find something to defend himself with until he can get ahold of a wand. The squeals are getting softer as they're replaced by static loud enough to be heard through the heavy wooden door he stands before.

Oddly enough there is little less he wants to do right now then open this door. There isn't anything too obviously wrong with it, but there is a discernable aura of what? It's as though by opening this door he would be taking a step he couldn't take back. _'Fuck.'_ "Fuck it." Acting before he has time to talk himself out of it the wizard bursts – outside. Spinning around he finds the way behind him literally walled off by a face of bricks rising up in the bank of fog above him even as it disappears into the fog to either side. That godforsaken noise pulls him away from his confusion long enough to notice the kid sitting on the steps before him.

"Hey." Startled the boy – because even with the long black hair, the big black eyes, and the overall androgyny this is a little boy – all but falls down the stairs trying to get away from him, the radio he'd been playing with abandoned. "Oi! Wait up kid; I'm not going to hurt you!" Poised to run the child none the less halts eyes bright with distrust in a face tight with fear. A very familiar face, what with that nose and those unnaturally dark eyes – hell even that disgusting hair. _'Snivellous jr. of course I should have expected something like this. Fucking death eater scum.'_ The kid is glancing from him to the radio and back as though wondering whether to make a run for it and scamper or just cut it as a lost.

Moving slowly, but deliberately Sirius bends down and picks up the small pocket radio – no, it's a 'walkie-talkie' like in that movie Platoon he and Moony watched the other day. It's the cleanest, newest thing he's seen since he's gotten here; even the clothing he's wearing is old and worn. "Please, can I have it back? My mommy bought it for me to protect me from the monsters… When they get too close it makes noise so I know to run away." _'Mommy? Geez, who would be desperate enough to fuck old Snivilly?_ _Then again considering how he was with Malfoy maybe Snivilly is the mommy.'_ "Monsters? I doubt it kid – now where is your old man and don't lie I'll know." Watching the boy's almost painfully hopeful expression change to one of confusion and fear Sirius is almost sorry – almost.

Before he can repeat his inquiry the radio gives a loud almost visceral exclamation and the boy is taking to his heels without a second's thought. Like a ghost the child disappears into the fog that surrounds them. The radio grows louder and louder still, almost too loud to hear the sound underneath of clicking nails and heavy panting heading his way. Cursing Sirius tries to change into his animus form and falls screaming to the ground. Wheezing from the experience all he wants to do is lie here until the world stops spinning. The radio continues bleating probably leading every bugaboo in the area right to him.

Something that sounds like laughter in much the way a pedophile sounds like a guy you'd love to have babysitting your four-year-old has the wizard scrambling to his feet cursing all the way. Lacking a wand, a weapon, and quite frankly the will to fight Sirius has no other choice than to run. Striking off blindly it takes a bit less than two seconds to develop a deep all-encompassing hatred of the unending fog. Twice already, he's stumbled into parked cars and over things; he has tried hard not to look at. One of those things was a very small, very light thing that all but disintegrated when his foot went into its side. Whatever is making that damnable laugh has fallen back, but only to play with him. Staying just far away enough not to set the radio off it nonetheless is close enough for that laugh to be driving him 'round the bend.

Startling as a sudden batch of static coincides with another laugh just behind him Sirius falls into a panicked run and nearly tumbles to the ground as he steps on a loose pipe. Sliding from under his foot it rings out against the trash can he just barely catches himself on. Whispering a vicious stream of profanity he checks his newly bleeding hands idly noting the filth he has accumulated in little of any time. "Shit." As if cued something misshapen lunges out of the gloom with a shriek. Slick with condensation it is the grey of putrefaction, its skin drawn tight over almost absurdly long limbs. The head is canine-like; long with a mouth so overfilled with monstrous teeth the skin can't be bothered to cover them. Its eyes are like ink as it chuckles quietly, before standing on its hind legs.

It's got to be nearly seven feet tall if not more the legs jointed in a way that makes Black's head hurt. Even standing it's hands… paws… whatever nearly touch the ground. Teeth shining with saliva it gives that same nerve-wracking laughter allowing it to rise to an ear-splitting giggle as it shudders with excitement. Jerking suddenly it falls half its skull missing. Sputtering as he crawls away from the still twitching corpse he gingerly wipes at the mess dripping down his face. Dimly he notices his ears are ringing even as his eyes are darting about looking for whatever did this. The slow clack of hobnail boots striding toward him has his hand stretching out toward the pipe at his feet.

"Aw, I thought you liked me cousin Si!" Smiling as he recognizes the voice he's drawn up sharply as what looks like a fourteen year old muggle girl steps from the dusk. One eye is swollen shut, the skin like an overripe plum. Blood stains the area beneath her broken nose as well as her lips; one of which is swollen and spilt. Smiling crookedly the girl shrugs one honey-brown eye winking up with humor. "This is what I look like without the metamorphus ability… Well not the bruises and stuff that was from fighting the monsters, but the black hair and brown eyes and the being knee-high to a grasshopper thing that's all me. I guess the glamour is gone, Si."

Rocking back on his heels Sirius can feel himself grinning; "What glamour ladybug; the clumsiness or maybe the pig snout or how about the scatterbrained behavior? No, chickadee it's not the glamour I'm missing – I'm pretty sure it's the pink hair. Don't know if you noticed, but it's a bit gloomy around these parts." Taking the hit she gives him with exaggerated pain the older man turns back to the corpse. "There are a lot more of these things then?" Hefting the shotgun she holds Tonks nods grimly. "Yeah, I haven't seen anything like this one around, but there are all kinds of things out there: wolf things, shadow men, these weird crying shift shaper things… Just lots of shit."

End Chapter One


	2. Lupin

DAY ONE – 6:38 A.M. THE SHEPHERD HOUSE

He comes to in a tattered chair beneath an old kaftan more holes than cloth. The air smells of mold, standing water, and stale air of a house unlived in. It smells like the shrieking shack and every place he has ever lived. His wife is dead. Just as he assumed – her being with him has led to her death, and now their son is an orphan like Harry. His clothes are stiff with sweat and itchy with dirt as he gingerly moves looking for injuries. Werewolves are hardy, but AK works just as well as silver poisoning on them. He had felt it hit him in the chest, had felt his life being ripped from its moorings. "I'm dead." Blinking his dry eyes sleepily the battered man settles further into his seat. Somewhere a fan lazily creaks though no sign of its efforts reach him. The pictures on the wall are playing games moving only in the corners of his eyes, but then perhaps they are merely bogged down by the layers of grime covering them.

"I'm so tired." It's nice to say it finally, because he is tired – has always been tired. It doesn't matter anymore because… because he's dead. He's dead and this, this is as close to heaven as he is probably allowed. A clock strikes the hour somewhere close by. 7:00. It was nearer eleven when he fell, maybe midnight – the half-moon overhead and Dora… Who is watching Teddy right now? Maybe Dora's mother – certainly not Harry, if he isn't dead himself. It should hurt more to think that, but instead it's just a fact. James is dead, Sirius is dead, Peter should be dead, and Harry is probably dead. "And I'm dead." A phone rings upstairs for what seems forever. A man curses and then walks away cautiously as something makes a god-awful racket. Clearly come the words, "Fuck it." And then a door opens before being slammed shut. "Sirius."

Probably not, just wishful thinking – like hoping Harry and Teddy are okay. The floorboards tick as the house gently expands with heat. Gradually a light fills the windows with a sullen glare. It looks like it could rain. It looks like the day James decided to tell me why I couldn't know anything. He trusted me; I had to understand that he trusted me, but Lily and Sirius… It had started to rain and it had been easier to listen to the rain. _"You understand right?"_ Of course he had – does. He is a werewolf; a dark creature and no matter how polite he is or how helpful he is not to be trusted. No, in truth he is totally untrustworthy because his every interaction with others is based on lies – lies of omission are still a lies.

Dozing before the window the gradual darkening of the room goes unnoticed as the floorboards warp and the furniture decays. The wood paneling cracks and falls away as the pictures erode as though held toward an unseen flame. It is only the sound of a siren blaring through the air that startles him awake. Looking around at the now unrecognizable room Remus struggles to his feet trying to breathe through his mouth. The smell of decomposition is heavy in the now humid air as though he stood at Fenrir's side again trying to play a part. _The little girl couldn't even find the air to scream._ Giving his head a quick, hard shake the battered man moves toward the nearer of the two doors staring at him. Pushing his fringe out of his eyes as he reaches for the greasy-looking doorknob Lupin is momentarily startled to realize this is not the body he has become accustomed to.

A glance around the room provides a mirror caked with what could be mud if he doesn't study it too closely. Using the discarded sheet he is just able to clear a section of it. It's more than enough – he can't be more than nineteen, maybe twenty. A shaggy crop of gray-less brown hair, a wrinkle-less if slightly scarred face, and what looks like one of the outfits he use to snag out of Siri's all denim, silk and leather. "Impractical", but the face in the mirror is smiling because there is no better word for Sirius Horatio Black. The siren is still going and the floor is now covered with an inch of brownish water. "This isn't heaven." Of course not, he isn't clean enough to get anywhere near there - not after that year with Greyback, though even before he hadn't been an angel.

The door he had intended to use is buckling inward as water sprays it's self through the edges and growing cracks. There is a bad feeling around the other door. For some reason it feels like a trap just waiting for him; so then there is only one choice. Slamming the chair through the bay window Lupin can only hope he isn't on the second floor or overlooking a cliff. Though knowing his luck he's about to jump head first into a sea of waiting flames. What he actually does is land rather easily in a badly neglected front lawn. Behind him the door by the window succumbs with a groan allowing a wall of water to rearrange the room he'd left behind. There is soon a foot high waterfall running behind him to darkening the grey dust coating his shoes. A sudden impulse has him ducking to the right as talon-tipped claw rips through the air where his head had been.

Looking up he sees the decayed relic of a beautiful face staring down at him through eyes clouded with cataracts. Suddenly the cupid bow mouth splits transforming roughly half her face into a gaping maw lined with backward facing teeth. At the center of the grinding maelström of teeth a light gathers as stick-like arms struggle to lift the slimy, somewhat bloated creature higher. 'Shit.' Digging in his heels he just manages to dodge a ray of light capable of digging out a five-inch hole in the earth. With a sudden rather breathless scream the thing plunges back into the murky water it'd come from. Not giving it a chance to catch its breath the breathless man stumbles to his feet and takes off running toward the nearby street. Hopping the waist-high fence he glances back just in time to catch two of those creatures quietly watching him. With those same painful exhalations they disappear like they'd never been there.

Running a shaking hand through his hair Lupin releases a shuddering breath. 'So I'm in hell then. I thought… I hoped my intentions would be enough even if my actions weren't.' Too busy woolgathering to notice his new companion staring up at him it isn't until Remus takes a step forward right into the child that he looks down into a familiar face. "Severus?" No, this certainly looks like the man, but obviously this a child thrown away. The flapping, mismatched clothing hangs on a body made of skin and bones. A pair of almost comically large ears poke through the glossy black hair that falls midway down his back. The face is delicate and marked with stress half of it seemingly made up of two large black eyes. Those eyes more than anything else prove this can't be Snape, who has probably never been this innocent or trusting. And the child is trusting as it stands less than a hand's reach away without a single bit of fear.

Kneeling without the usual creaking or twinges of pain the brown-eyed man places a hand on the child's shoulder and is rewarded with a grin. "I know you – you're the one she was looking for." Taken aback it is a moment before who could be looking for him occurs to him. "Dora – you saw Dora?" Nodding brightly the child launches into a rambling account of meeting the "loud girl" who had been mean at first before the radio that bad man stole alerted them to danger. "That's when Mr. Roland appeared with his guns! He got rid of a lot of them, but your friend was worst then useless at first. She got lots better later on, but right then I thought she was gonna get us all killed."

Flushing as perhaps he realizes that honesty should be used sparingly sometimes the boy looks away before taking a deep breath. "I haven't seen your friend since she let Mr. Roland's church', and one grimy little finger points off into the fog where barely it is possible to see a rising spire. "I think – I think you need to find her, but if you do I don't think either of you will ever leave here. Sorry." Biting his lower lip the boy honestly does look sorry to have to tell him this, however there is something colder behind his eyes that might not feel the same. Giving a slight shiver Lupin decides to be off – he needs to find Dora because this is his fault. This is all his fault.

End Chapter 2


	3. Lupin II

Chapter 3

The hike to the church is more disquieting then dangerous. Even so he has not relaxed the grip he has on the fire axe in his left hand. The area between his shoulder blades continues to burn as though the boy – Toby – as he had decided to call him were still behind him watching with those big sad eyes. Except that isn't possible because the fog is thicker now like smoke, roiling and ebbing like the breath of something alive and vicious. Pausing the short man realizes that the sound he has been tracking for the last block or so is getting progressive louder as though getting closer or perhaps being multiplied.

Suddenly he is assaulted with the stench of charred meat as the sound of something being dragged along the ground grows closer still. Dodging to the right gets him out of the way of the skin dripping horror that now lies lowing on the ground beside him it's parboiled eyes locked with his. Unfortunately the axe he still clenches in one hand has laid open a six-inch gash in his leg. With a gurgle the thing before him reaches one steaming hand toward him an action that causes a stream of liquified fat to run down it's chest taking with it the rest of it- her breast.

She gives a sob nearly distracting him from the sound of something shambling up the road behind him. This one is a human-shaped inferno, it's skeletal face strangely calm as it staggers along with pieces big and small falling off to crumble into piles of charcoal on the ground. As Lupin staggers to his feet, hissing with pain as he puts pressure on his wounded leg, the inferno pauses as though studying him before giving a warbling howl and rushing at him with impressive speed. The burned one on the ground has him by the leg before he is able to move leaving him open to present immolation. Just a few yards away the Inferno's legs give way causing the flames to extinguish as the cooked flesh is knocked off it on impact. However, Remus' sigh of relief is cut short as out of the cloud of debris a spider-like creature formed out of the Inferno's bones clicks briskly toward him spinal cord whipping merrily behind it.

Meanwhile the Burned One continues to hold him and where her hands clench at him the cloth smolders as though catching fire. Finally remembering the axe in his hand Lupin takes a two-handed stance and begins a desperate attack on her arms and head. It is a messy endeavor because quite frankly he's a bit frantic between the creature bearing down on him and the fact that what was once smoldering is now actively ablaze the Burned One holding on despite missing a significant part of her skull. Hacking through one bloody, flesh denuded length of arm Lupin is able to sort of hop aside just as the grinning Skelider takes a leap and is shot down by a panting man in priestly grab.

Quickly the pale, slender man brings down the butt of his rifle on the remaining portion of skull sending baked shards of bone and brain stewed into soft mush everywhere. Even as he turns green Lupin is hacking through the stubborn limb still holding him while ripping the flaming cloth off his leg. There is a hand-shaped burn just above his ankle the edges of it white where skin continues to die; already the wound oozes a yellowish liquid that smells of infection and rot. There is a bone deep ache there that is rapidly worsening into an eye-watering agony that will surely take him off his feet if it doesn't simply end him. The rest however isn't too bad – the skin is badly reddened but otherwise it should heal on its own by tomorrow at the latest.

"Quickly, there are more in this godforsaken mist! There are supplies in the church and thankfully none of these many damned are capable of crossing the consecrated ground never mind tearing down the door." Nodding Lupin has very little choice but to follow the brunette while biting into his cheek to keep himself focused. They move as fast as they dare falling into a kind of loping motion that has them at the church in no time as they skip about the remains of many creatures big and small.

The things lying on the grounds are little more than stinking relics of bone and desiccated flesh at best and sun-bleached shards at worst. None of the malformed bodies bear a match to the things he has so recently encountered and the thought that there could possibly be such a myriad collection of d-dae… monsters leaves him drained of the small measure of energy he had. All at once it seems beyond pointless to continue as he has, because if Dora lies here in hell with him then she has sinned beyond her ability to retain God's favor. In other words she deserves it… and that is true isn't it? For having lain with a beast and bore it's seed which is an abomination.

The priest holds the heavy gilded door open for him with a quizzical look on his long face. The heavy five o'clock shadow he idly scratches at belies the smile he is trying to muster for Remus. "Come inside brother and rest. The twilight will leave us soon at which point the greater evils will stir to try their hands at taking this place." Feeling the grimace twisting his face Lupin grimly makes his way up the concrete stairs into the dim inner sanctum.

From what he can see there have been many efforts to make this place seem less abandoned, but if once the Spirit dwelled here it has long since departed. Larger than any cathedral the werewolf has ever been it echoes with the sounds of its own disrepair. The vaulted ceiling periodically rains down debris and showers of dust even as the floor whines in distress. The adornments typical of such a place are missing, broken, or draped over as though in shame. The gold and purple have faded even as the whitewash has turned dingy with the whole of the mess covered by a blanket of dust. It should be by all rights like stepping back into the Black house.

It should be, but by some reason or other there is a sense of safety here as though some lingering protection still lay embedded here. As he takes in the sights the priest – Father Roland - briskly walks about securing various makeshift defenses over the windows and doors before attending to the many candles scattered about. Methodically he tends to each cluster of candles gradually exposing the entirety of a once grand old lady. Mad, if some of the murals are to be taken into account, but grand. The mural in front of him shows an unclothed child smiling gently as she is run through with spears by a multitude of men – aroused men – in little more than their skins and various masks of unnatural realism.

Turning away from the painting he can almost see it changing from the corner of his eyes. When he looks back the child is a young man bowed before a large half-dressed man wielding a large axe. The boy's hair is like spilt ink and his skin like buttermilk, but it is the sight of his leg that has Lupin jump back with a gasp before checking his own leg. A leg that is now whole without a single mark. Looking back at the picture he is greeted with a blank wall. "Don't look so surprised this place is not what it would seem. No more so or less than the mirages of a desert or the monsters of the sea." Father Roland stands behind him holding a knapsack and a change of clothing. "Go on take it, and once you've change we'll have a chat alright?"

Nodding the short man wanders off to the few shadows left and changes into the gently used clothing he's been handed. It is with a brief moment of hesitation that he tosses the pants of his old outfit before stuffing the rest into his knapsack. Feeling slightly better the wizard wanders over to his current host who sits on one of the many pews a book of worship in his hands. Father Roland gives the sense of being old although he is clearly only Lupin's age if not younger. The hands that hold the book are strong if scarred while his short muggle-styled hair is thick and almost aggressively black. The lines on his face are those of worry rather than age and he possesses that vicious aura of strength peculiar to every dark-haired young man Lupin has ever known.

"If you're done with your pondering I need to get you settled out now." Feeling himself blush Lupin seats himself beside the priest one hand nervously rubbing the silk covered cushion beneath him. With a sigh Roland closes his eyes and leans back bringing the book he holds to his chest. "The place you have found yourself is a township just outside the bounds of a place known as Silent Hill. The way across is limited to passage by ship over the damned waters of the lake that lies between it and here. I do not advise that crossing for what you have experienced here is little more than a night terror. To enter Silent Hill is to enter the very gates of hell, and there unlike here you will meet few points of safe harbor. So think well, before you continue onward."

There is silence but for the sound of burning wicks and the slow death of the cathedral around them. Calmly Lupin waits knowing there is no other path before him then the one that runs to Silent Hill. "Fine then. There was a girl here two days prior calling herself Tonks. She was looking for her lover, Lupin. I'll assume that's you since you fit the description. I sent her to Oletta at the Library downtown because she had questions I could not answer. Before she left I gave her a choice of provisions though all she took were a few healing items, a gun, and as much ammo as she could carry. Impulsive brat."

Though he had whispered that last it was obvious that Roland's opinion of Tonks was less than wholesome all things considered. "She can be a handful, but she isn't all bad." Not that he had much knowledge of her overall. Theirs had been a relationship less of discovery and more of conviences - of ease. Easier for him to give in and for her to pretend. Even now he couldn't tell you what her favorite music was or her favorite color. He knew she loved raspberries in cream for treats and that she hated for anyone to touch her with their feet. And she… what did she really know about him? Did she know he liked to box in his spare time? Or that the one thing he really loved about her was how she sang when she thought no one was around? Still. "So she is probably in Silent Hill?"

For a moment it seems that Roland is a sleep, but then – "Yes, she is surely in Silent Hill. I check the dock every morning and one of the older boats was missing. Further there has been more activity across the lake and I think she has much to do with it." Abruptly sitting up the Father scrubs his face with one rather dirty hand. " Do you know how long I've been in this godforsaken place? 326 years give or take a decade thanks to that ever-present fog. Yet I've not aged a day - no - not even an hour since I've come. This isn't Kansas kid. You don't know what you're in for and like Tonks you aren't trying to figure it out. That will get you killed here boy and if you die in this place may God have mercy on your soul because there are no second chances and you never stop hurting. Those monsters outside… every last one of them is an object lesson on the price of failure." With that rejoinder the immortal man stands and wonders off toward the shadows. " The bedrooms are upstairs and the storerooms are in the basement. There is a map by the backdoor which will be unbarred between the hours of 8 and 6. I wish you luck, but I have little faith it'll protect you."

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest I only started this because I was a bit miffed at an attempted HP/SH crossover that put Snape through the wringer while painting everyone else as some sort of blessed saint. No - there are more than a few in HP could do with a trip to the Hills. And so you are.


End file.
